Of Shooting Stars And Battle Scars
by tarry rash wanton
Summary: Whether through tragedies or fairytale endings, Peter will hold Edmund's hand. slash, incest. PeterEdmund.


**Title**: Of Shooting Stars And Battle Scars  
**Pairing**: Peter/Edmund   
**Rating**: PG – 13  
**Summary**: Whether through tragedies or fairy-tale endings, Peter will hold Edmund's hand.   
**Disclaimer**: C.S. Lewis owns the characters.  
**Warnings**: Incest, slash. A bit of the film and the book, The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe.  
**Word Count**: 3194  
**Notes**: This is probably the only piece of fiction that I will ever be proud of. I actually like how it was written, and I do hope you like it too. 

I. There Goes The Sun, Oceans Away

The first time Edmund's heart breaks is the first time he falls in love.

The sky is a wash of orange when Peter grows up and leaves Edmund for his pursuit of maturity.

He and Edmund are walking away from The Ice Cream Parlour, (or perhaps they are walking away from something so much more but have yet to unravel) and Edmund's still boyish fingers are gripping tightly on his cone and he is laughing -- all big smiles and too-wide eyes, his other hand adjoined with Peter's under the hot sinking sun -- because his ice cream is dripping! Dripping along his hand and onto the pavement!

Peter gives a faint smile because although he thinks this is amusing, he cannot tolerate such childish things anymore. 

"I wish, I wish, that, it will always be like this." Edmund admits solemnly as he stares up Peter, the sky, and then Peter again like he is trying to tell the two apart. They have stopped walking now, leaning against the outcropping of a wall that divides the church from the street.

Edmund swipes his tongue around his ice cream but there is still some left on his fingers. "Because, well," And he pauses thoughtfully, his bottom lip curled, and there is still a bit of ice cream on his cheek that Peter vaguely wants to wipe off with the sleeve of one arm, "I suppose I have the most fun when I'm with you."

"Don't you?" Edmund asks him carefully, like he is afraid of the answer, of what Peter may feel after all. "Have fun when we go off to our little adventures together, I mean?"

And Peter wants to say yes and cheat growing up. But he knows he has to stand firm in his decision to leave the world that Edmund still inhabits. Peter has changed in many ways but he is still the same, still Edmund's brother. Only not anything more than that.

Either way, his father is counting on him—Peter carries the weight of the world on his shoulders like he soon will wear an armor in battle, and although this is his first battle, this big growing up affair that for him is such a task, it is the one that will be the most difficult to surpass.

"So, there's a war, and, and Father will be..." Peter trails off. "He will be…"

How Peter manages to look at Edmund straight in the eye is a wonder.

"I can't play these games with you anymore."

II. In Your Eyes Like My First Time That I Caught Fire

Autumn in Finchley is when the leaves fall from the trees, neglected, then die, crumpling on the cold, October ground.

On Edmund's way home from school he picks the leaves that collect along the path to his house as mementoes for himself, and then slips them inside his bag, something to put between the pages of his school books for that distinctive dry-leaf smell, -- one for Mother, one for Father, then one for Susan and another for Lucy.

Edmund will always want to save the best leaf for Peter, but he remembers just how Peter is suddenly all too grown up to want to indulge him, so he burns them in the fireplace, later when his family is asleep upstairs, watching them slowly turn into ash as he tosses each one into the fire.

And it is ridiculous, killing the leaves so soon when it is not yet Winter, but he finds comfort in their death —he is writing their tragedy for theirs is a story most similar to his. The leaves are neglected, left alone by the world.

Edmund is abandoned too in away, for although Peter is there to console him with kind words and reprimanding actions, he stands alone.

And perhaps, perhaps Edmund will have the same fate as these leaves too. Perhaps he shall die ahead of Winter or write his own death, and it will be the death of something beautiful.

Autumn in Finchley bore the reddest leaves you will ever see.

Leaves the color of a carpet in a fine hotel room. 

Leaves the color of dried blood.

III. Cross Your Fingers (Pray For Winter)

Edmund fears falling.

He dreams of stumbling off a hill and rolling down to sharp swords that he cut at his flesh, and he fears that he will be falling forever --an endless torture--, and the blades sting deeper and deeper until they are not blades but Peter's words, although they are as fierce.

Edmund's dreams are not that of a boy's, but his fears are still those of one.

And then he wakes up, cold and shivering, fingers clenched on the sheets – and oh he wishes he were still a child and he can be held in safe arms again.

IV. And The Moments We've Shared Could Last A Lifetime. And The Faith I have In Us Will Keep You Near

Peter doesn't care much for him these days.

On rare occasions when Mother allows them to venture the park they are able to play under the cool shades thick with green and ripeness, so comforting to the eyes that Edmund can forget, very briefly, how Peter never smiles anymore.

One day when Edmund is feeling particularly sour and mean, and when Peter tells him to look after Lucy while he fetches them something to eat, Edmund lets his little sister deliberately out of sight. And he knows this will be his own undoing, but he wants to see if Peter will care enough to — to, _well_. He really does not know what to expect.

So he sits on the bench like a good English boy, his fingers on his lap and does not bother to tell Lucy not to go off alone. He thinks – let's see what Peter will do in this sort of situation. Let's see what bloody grown up Peter will have to say! Let's see if he can fix this.

After a good half hour, and when they _do_ find Lucy, picking berries from a bush, Peter will be angry, but he says no word to Edmund or Susan or Lucy herself, just loops his arm around her shoulder and tells her not to wander off too far like that ever again.

Edmund wonders: if he ever got lost, will Peter repeat the same words over and rest his hand on his shoulder? But his thoughts are cut short when Peter glares at him spitefully, and he swallows, his fists clenching at his sides.

Peter says to him when they reach the doorstep to their house, "I told you to look after Lu."

"Susan was there! You should've asked her instead! She's the older sibling!" And this is true. Why is Peter putting all of the blame on him?

Something in Peter's gaze hardens and he scoffs, bitterly, stepping back and Edmund suddenly feels like the boy he is looking at right now is not his brother but somebody else he does not take a liking to, in his place. Several miles placed between them and the distance is disheartening. Edmund is losing hope. He is losing his brother.

Peter says, "You are incorrigible."

Edmund says back, hurt flooding his eyes, and it is difficult but he feels so helpless, like a little boy much younger than he actually is, "Do stop trying to act like you're Father! You can never take his place!"

And Peter, like any proper older brother, will say his apologies -- he's merely looking out for his brother and sisters' benefit! -- despite the difficulty of finding the right words. But of course, by the time he figures out what he has to say for himself to undo the hurt he has caused Edmund, it will already be too late.

Edmund will have run inside the house and made his way to his room, the door shutting with a firm thud--the sound of finality-- and a thousand other doors (whether imagined or not) will close too, behind him.

V. Viewing The Ocean From The Sun's Point Of View - I Miss The Reflection And The Contrast

Because of the air raids they are sent to live in the heart of England, ten miles from the nearest railway station, two miles from the nearest post office with a very old man, a professor -- although his name is not important.

It will be a change of scenery for Edmund and his brother and sisters, something different than what they were normally used to– the archaic smell of the Professor's house and its many rooms, the mountains and trees outside. Even the house it seemed were to come alive at night but nobody is really too sure. Nonetheless, they are brought there and Edmund is homesick but tries to hide it by pretending to look bored.

On their first day there Edmund wanders outside without any permission. Mrs. Macready, he knows, will have a fit but he decides not to dwell on the consequences of his actions.

He wanders off to the nearest wood, stops when he thinks he is out of sight and rests his back against the cool bark of a tree. Under the shade he stays and picks up the fallen leaves from the ground. One for Mother, one for Father, one for Susan, another for Lucy.

Then the one for himself and Peter he keeps inside his pocket.

He stays under the shade of trees for half an hour, and wonders if anybody will notice he has gone. When after another half hour and nobody has made an effort to look for him, he gets up to leave — the sun on the horizon is sinking and the winds have shifted.

On his way back to the Professor's house, Edmund picks apart the leaves inside his pocket, letting them litter the path and scatter in the breeze.

This is not Finchley and he is surrounded by strangers.

VI. We Gather No Moss Just Like A Rolling Stone

When Edmund lies in bed he thinks of what Lucy has said. He turns her story over in his head, perusing her words -- a magical place like the ones he's only read about in books, inside the wardrobe.

Edmund wonders if Lucy will ever grow up to be like him, wonders if he will ever be as happy as she is, or if he will ever have his childhood (and his brother) back. The things a little boy dreams of when he is half-asleep.

Edmund turns over in his bed, pulls the covers up to his chin like somebody used to and prepares to sleep.

"There once was a boy," The Peter of Edmund's memory says, "Who never wanted to grow up."

VII. The Hands Upheld To Catch You

When first The White Witch thrusts her blade forward, she misses, but the second time, Edmund is not so lucky.

Pain spreads like wildfire into the hollow of his rib, shooting up like a lodestar into his lungs, and the colors are bright behind his eyelids. A flash of scattered emotions, and then a peaceful calm, static, settles over him.

Then, Edmund will think, For Narnia, I die for Narnia, but the thought will dissipate as soon as Peter's eyes meet his, and he thinks, thinks of childish games and pillow fights and the wonderful stories with happy endings that Peter tells him before he goes to bed, and then he realizes, he is not dying for Narnia but for _Peter_.

And if only he can muster enough courage, he will fight this battle until the end for his brother, except, except perhaps this _is_ the end and the only thing he can really afford to do is weep.

The last thing Edmund sees is Peter.

And then his body, as if weightless, will crumple to the ground, and he will be clutching his wound with quavering fingers, and the sound of his armor hitting the hard earth will be dreadful to his own ears because it will be like falling off the bridge, except Peter is no longer there to catch him. 

Not this time.

Or perhaps it is just because Edmund is too blind to see who it is that saves him.

VIII. And Those With Defeat On Their Faces Are Those We Must Keep Alive 

That night he sleeps well in the comfort of Peter's presence.

They have retired back to the tent and Edmund sits carefully on what is supposedly his bed.

And the tent feels oddly familiar, perhaps he has seen a similar one in his dreams, perhaps he has not. He looks up when Peter strides over to him, and a warm gaze touches his lips, lingering there long enough for Edmund to feel it but too brief for him to decipher what it may mean.

"Are you still tired?" Peter asks, drawing his eyes away. Edmund knows he is staring at the cut on his lip.

He says, shrugging with one shoulder, "A little."

When Peter steps back, he swallows and Edmund looks at his feet. "It will be best if you had some more sleep."

Although Edmund doesn't think the same way, he whispers quietly anyway, "I suppose." Because he finds that he is unable to say anything else, his hands on his lap, and they are cold. He _is_ cold and the only thing that warms him to his toes is the warmth of Peter's presence --

"I'm sorry."

But this too, is quick to change. Edmund feels a stab of hurt as Peter flings the words over his shoulder. "You are a child."

And Edmund knows this, too.

IX. For Only Love Can Salve Such Pain

Peter's second battle is victorious. The sky overhead is blue, bright and he is still standing there, his sword at his side, over lifeless bodies.

Quickly he stumbles over to where Edmund is lying on the grass, bleeding, quavering, and his resolve instantly crumbles. His victory means nothing now – because Edmund is, he is dying in Peter's arms and Peter doesn't want it to see this end this way, _no_ not like this when his pursuit of maturity will herald the loss of his brother.

So when Peter weeps, they are not the tears of a King but those of a boy. Edmund will be far too afraid of dying to notice that his brother's hands are tight in his hair, and that Peter's tears are shed for him.

"Don't… Don't you ever do that again," when what Peter will mean to say is _If you die, then I die with you_.

Edmund will come alive (or together) in his arms for the first time in two lifetimes and when Peter presses his face against his head, Edmund will want to weep too and cling to him tighter until he cannot breathe any longer and the only pain will be the burning of his lungs.

He will say against Peter's chest, smelling the metal, the blood, "It was the only way."

--_I love you._

X. It's My Funeral Today, My Funeral Today -- I Laid It Down Underneath The Sound

The castle of Cair Paravel sits atop a hill, overlooking the bluest sea that Edmund has ever seen.

A little later after the coronation, he finds Peter leaning against the balcony, and he reminds himself that his brother bears a different responsibility now, over his people, his land – Peter The Magnificent.

Edmund will want to walk up to him and say something, but he does not know if there really is anything left to say. The battle is done and he is alive. Whether he deserves a second chance at life is not important.

"Can you remember?" Peter asks, and Edmund stops completely, his resolve shaking inside his ribs. "How much fun we used to have when we went off to have little adventures together?"

Peter smiles his first real smile in a long time, and turns to him, the blue of his eyes reflecting the sun, his happiness.

"I thought you said you weren't to play games with me anymore?" Asks Edmund carefully because he is too afraid that his hope will splinter into tiny pieces.

"I know, but," Then Peter's eyes soften, "do you think it will be too late if we started again?"

Edmund watches the waves lap at the shore, and it is like he wants to fall off the balcony but he is too afraid to confront the pain that comes when he hits the ground. So he says, baring his soul, "I suppose not."

XI. The Sun Is Rising With The Tide

It is Autumn in Narnia and they are in the wood, Peter and he, practicing with their swords, sharp metal against sharp metal, the sound of their swords clashing weighing heavy among the rustling of trees.

Branches crack underfoot when Edmund first notices that the blueness of Peter's eyes resembles the undulating sea that the balconies of Cair Paravel overlook, and he is suddenly struck, suddenly shy by the years that have hardened Peter into High King. 

Edmund remembers falling, and the collision of his sword with Peter's own. He tumbles to the ground, on his back, and the leaves crunch under the pressure of his weight. But oh — oh, _oh_, Peter is smiling brightly, the sun or his crown like a halo around his head.

He thrusts his sword into the ground next to him and Edmund hears it falling vaguely next to his arm, Peter extending his hand for Edmund to take and he is offering more than Edmund cares to see.

"Oh Ed," He mutters lightly, his tone affectionate as he pulls Edmund to his feet and lets their hands tangle longer than necessary.

Edmund straightens his garb, half-abashed and he reaches for his discarded sword on the ground but Peter's fingers are fitting perfectly into the folds of his tunic and he stops all at once.

The only metal that Edmund tastes is the one from Peter's mouth.

_Edmund has fallen and this time, Peter has caught him._

XII. The World Without End

They have left a bit of themselves in Narnia, but one thing still remains.

For although they are younger, they are wiser, and although they are boys they are men, and the trials that have come between them made them the Kings that they are.

_Once a King of Narnia, always a King of Narnia._

Peter will wear Edmund's love proudly like he once did a crown, and Edmund will always be much too stubborn for Peter's liking but oh – how he will cherish him forever, his little King.

Edmund will finally write their story and it will not end in vain, but the pages will be filled with balmy summer evenings and wonderful adventures, and things about magical places and a binding love.

It will be something to remember another lifetime by, a memento.

For just as the sun always rises in the east and sets in the west, Peter's love for Edmund will remain.

_The End_


End file.
